afghanistan, death, birthday, and war.

today has been a strange day. i woke up fully aware that my best friend G, was beginning his life as a deployed solider, another friend of mine was celebrating her daughters 5th birthday, I would be attending a viewing for a girl that i worked with, and i was still in some sort of feud with my best friend.

my best friend G had talked of his plans of joining the US Army and going to fight for his country six years ago when we first met. i've never been keen on the idea of war and especially of my friends joining the efforts. and through the years almost everyone of our other friends, his family, and even strangers, i would assume, tried to talk him out of it. but his stubbornness, passion, and loyalty- some of the things that i admire most about him - would always be stronger than any of the words any of us could say against his decision. before he returned back to his base from his pre-deployment leave the hug i gave him was probably the longest and hardest one i ever gave anyone. and i am not a hugger. i actually even hate seeing other people hug each other, it's weird. but i didn't want to let him go. I have faith - i guess that's what you call it even when you don't subscribe to any particular religion- that I will see him again. and until i am able to i have to be patient and hopeful for his entire tour.

today he made a little post on facebook basically telling everyone about his journey thus far. not much detail - at least when it comes to G- but that was enough. it will be those post i'll be looking the most forward to. it doesn't matter how few and far between they are, each one will make me smile and cry like a baby.

after my cryfest for a friend at war, i put on my big girl clothes, dried my eyes, and drove in silence to a funeral home. Autumn and i weren't the best of friends, i refuse to lie and say how deeply she touched my life and all that other shit that people say when someone dies. ( i also refuse to say 'passed away' - it softens a blow that is not supposed to be soft.) but i did work with her for some time at roadhouse. when she first showed up i didn't even like her. i can't remember why, i just didn't. but when i decided to give her a chance i found her to be quite pleasant, funny, and pretty nice. we never really spent time together outside of work, but i did enjoy her company. it was weird being at that funeral home.  me and all the 'roadies' in our formal clothes - something that never happens- all awkwardly standing in the entrance. all of us together. as odd as we all are, we were a family. we had our fights, parties, laughs, and we'd even defend each other when necessary. just misfits that were originally usually forced to be together but all were standing there united for a fallen friend. that in itself was absolutely beautiful. I didn't stay for the funeral, i thought i would be disrespectful to her memory. my grief will never be the same as those who really knew her. I did cry though, but only when i hugged her parents. it's weird how death makes hugging a perfect stranger acceptable. the weirdest part of a funeral is how content the families seem to be... i have more thoughts on death but i'll save that for a different entry.

after i left the viewing i went and celebrated life. i went to a 5th birthday party. i was sitting with kids from age 5 to newborn. and it was weird, i went from a room with a heavy dark just sad feeling to being with people that don't have the mental capacity to understand death. i don't think i even have the mental capacity to understand death. but here they were tired, hungry, fussy, happy, poopy, laughing, and clapping. being passed around among the different mothers and friends just being content with their lives. i almost never want them to grow up and see how disappointing life can actually be.

and through all of the events today i keep going back to one. nothing in the world means more to me than my friends and family. absolutely nothing. no matter how irritating they are, and they are irritating. they are the reason i keep going. always.  it was D's 21'st birthday last friday, and it was the first time that ABCD were together for an extended period of time since A's wedding. i hate that the group has become so much like family we only get together for special occasions. when it used to be that each time we got together became a special occasion. growing up has become synonymous with growing apart. and i hate it.

moving waaaa

so it's finally happening the family are going their separate ways, actually my parents are saying together and i'm finally leaving the nest.

my fathers company is moving to the eastern shore, they specialize in marina type things and well it makes no sense that a marina type company would be absolutely landlocked. so they are moving to where their clients are, which makes sense and i wish the company all the best.

the whole moving out of my parents home thing is bittersweet, as a child you know that this day was come eventually you move out but you always have a home to go back to. except in this case, my parents are also moving and so when i return "home" to them for the occasional visit, the place i visit won't be my home. and i'm not moving out, i'm being forced out of the nest. i believe humans are probably some of the only creatures that nurture their young for such an extended period of time. some creature lay their eggs and that's it. if they survive they survive. if not, try again the next mating season.

but as i'm going through my room it seems to be a slow process, over my 21 years i've collected a shitload of crap. i desperately need to downsize everything. i know for a fact i will be getting rid of my entire desk and the top bunk of my bed and my large desk chair - that has served as my fan holder since i got my laptop about 11 months ago. other than that i just have stuff. so much stuff.  i started making a "goodwill" pile on my floor, i know i haven't looked at this stuff in years but when i pick it up, and blow off all the dust i just become overwhelmed by the flood of memories.

i know you're supposed to keep everything that sentimental to you- but what happens when everything becomes sentimental to you?  like my Washington DC panoramic puzzle - it's missing a piece or two, but i remember the day i opened the box, and started putting it together on my coffee table. i had about half the edge done when my cat jumped up on the table knocking it off. so i moved the puzzle to my kitchen table and sat there everyday after school and put it together, occasionally my parents would try to assist me but it was over 1000 pieces and they would get bored after a while... when it was finally finished it lived on the table for about a month. someone came over and i put it away and it's lived in my closet ever since.

i just need to grow up and let go of things that really don't matter.